Ask Me Not What I Have, But

The Butterfly Long Loved The Beautiful Rose, And Flirted Around All Day; While Round Him In Turn With Her Golden Caress, Soft Fluttered The Sun's Warm Ray.... I Know Not With Whom The Rose Was In Love, But I Know That I Loved Them All. The Butterfly, Rose, And The Sun's Bright Ray, The Star And The Bird's Sweet Call.

God Will Pardon Me. It Is His Trade.

Perfumes Are The Feelings Of Flowers.

Write . . . Write . . . Pencil . . . Paper.

As The Moon's Fair Image Quaketh In The Raging Waves Of Ocean, Whilst She, In The Vault Of Heaven, Moves With Silent Peaceful Motion.